Eight Ways To Make Love To Lucy
by mirajens
Summary: Natsu knows where to put it. ―NaLu


**Note: **Ah yes… more ~*_vague*~_ sex. I'm taking this venture into big girl writing slowly. Big thanks to Arianna for holding my hand as I lowkey descend into hell with her. I promise no one dies here. Well, no one important. Um, unlike the Gruvia version of this, this isn't a relationship progress. Just peeks into their sex life. I mean they're all from the same AU but its disjointed, kinda. /sweats/

Also, if you like your Natsu dorky and clueless in bed, you'd best walk away.

**Disclaimer:** Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima. This was inspired by the poem _Eight Ways To Say I Love You_.

* * *

><p><strong>Eight Ways To Make Love To Lucy<strong>

by_ mirajens_

.

.

.

_**un**_

Make love to her as a comfort. No, it's not pity or obligation because your girlfriend had to bury her father earlier that week and now lives by herself in a house made for a whole family. She barely eats, barely talks, barely deals with the pain in a healthy way. It's okay; don't push her. Be there for her and never let her go to sleep feeling like nobody will catch her from a free fall.

Late in the night as you feel her slight form tremble as she represses her tears, smooth a hand down on her hair and kiss the back of her neck, if only to tell her you're here, you're not leaving. When she reaches for you, be ready for a storm. Her mouth will be warm and still shaking from the sobs that rack her body. Kiss her anyway. Slip reverent hands under her silk night gown so she can feel the heat that has evaded her since the lonely hour. In a frenzy, discard all clothing: she needs to feel your burning skin against her own— all of you. When she flips you on your back so you're below her, let her. Allow her to come down on you in a thoughtless rhythm. In the middle of it all, sit up so you can be closer to her, so your comfort can be easily radiated. Reach up to brush the hair that stuck to her tear-streaked face. Soothe her when the weeping returns; wound your arms around her so tight that she has no choice but to accept she is not alone, and she never will be as long as you're around. Kiss away her tears and tell her you love her.

It might not chase away her grief, but for the mean time, it is enough.

**.**

**deux**

Make love to her when she least expects it. Do it when she thinks she's home alone, dumping load after load of laundry into the drier. She's in her rattiest pajama top and a nose strip, a testament to how caught off guard she is. With her back facing you, sneak up to her with the stealth of a ninja and edge your arms around her, caging her against the washing machine. Disregard her shrill cries of _what are you doing here, aren't you supposed to be at work_ and go ahead with lavishing her with kisses. Breathe deep; lose your bearings in the scent of her. Press your hardness against her lush bottom, showing her how much you've missed her. At the easy show of love, see her sappy smile as she reaches behind her to drag your face down to hers for a moony kiss. The quiet _okaeri _chases your heart to a gallop. Divulge her of her tiny panties and smooth a hand down the expanse of her generous ass as your other hands effortlessly unbuttons her shirt so there is more of her to see, to feel. Groan as she grinds back against your lap and waste no time freeing yourself and sheathing into her. Nudge her closer to the machine until she is bent at the waist over it. The sensation of the vibrations course through your joined bodies. Groan into her ear as you rock in and out, providing maximum pleasure with your hand cleverly wedged between the washing machine and her thighs, working sparks. Bury your face into her hair, associate the smell of home with it. Finish along with her just as the last round of spinning comes to a conclusion. As you climb down from your high, maneuver your head so you can rub your lips against hers.

_Tadaima_.

**.**

**trois**

Make love to her even after a wave of ridiculous embarrassment. When both of you are at a party, buzzed and happy and horny, drag her into your best friend's parents' bedroom and fuck like drunk hedonists. When there is not an item of garb on you two, thrust into her faster, almost to the beat of that club music blasting from below. As her back arches off the bed so much you fear she will throw both of you off it, tell her to chill out, eloquent as you are. It is this moment that your friends burst in through the door, a pack of hyenas on party drugs. They make cheering noises even as you and Lucy are frozen mid-thrust. Erza has the presence of mind (and the blush of a virgin) to close the door and usher away the nosy group. Through the door, you hear Gray screeching profanities along with colorful castration threats at you for having sex on the bed he was conceived on.

You think it's a solid five minutes of you softening inside Lucy as the pair of you reel from mortification.

"Gray saw my tits." Lucy breathes.

"He probably saw my asshole." You respond.

But both of you are too drunk to really care. In a fit of giggles, she works you up again and you return to full power in no time.

Have sex even though there is a Snapchat of you and you number one girl doing the do sent to Cana's contacts.

**.**

**quatre**

Let her come to you after the Friday night game when you're all sweaty and muddy. Put off showering and changing until your teammates leave so when she seeks you out, none but the shower heads and the lockers will be witness to her wails.

You're under the stringent current of the shower when you hear the creak of the door, and there she stands, radiant like sunshine and prim and proper in lavender and white amidst the unkempt bathing area. Naked and unabashed, you smile at her. Saunter over to her with a predatory gait and urge your princess to slum it with a pauper tonight. Heed the catching of her breath, the dilution of her eyes as she is hypnotized by the rivulets of water running down every muscle and plane of your body. Get a load of her nervousness as you strip her to match your state of undress, feel smug when she take another moment to run devout eyes on you. Frighten her with the intensity of the filthy words you whisper in her ear as you corner her against a draft, tiled corner.

Tell her you're gonna fuck her until she can't walk for days. Recount how wet she is, how that excites you and what you want to do with her. Give her a blow by blow of how it thrills you to slide your callused fingers against her slippery folds, and how many times has she come since you touched her there? Ask her if she likes it rough and was it true she got off to the idea of getting fucked by an athlete? Remind her that even at this hour, anyone could barge in at any minute now, and even that won't make you stop from pounding into her until _you _can't walk. Your fucking coach could come in here and watch for all you care; you're not letting her go until you're sure you've robbed her of brain function. Proceed to ravish her until she's breathless or sobbing or both. Yeah, both is good. Drive into her as the relentless water pours over you, making your liaison slippery and potentially fatal.

**.**

**cinq**

Make love to her as a goodbye.

She'll be gone for a year in that awful exchange student program and they way you see it, she might as well be gone for five years, or an eternity. As you spend your last hours alone in her bedroom, trying not to think of the impending doom, show her how deep your love runs, so that she'll at least hesitate to push through with leaving.

Give her something to look back on when she's lonely in her bed and longing for home; for you. Give her memories of how hot you feel between her legs, give her lust and affection she can bring anywhere, stored in every corner of her heart. Give her something to look forward to.

"I'll miss you," she tells you, a pair of tears sliding down her cheek. "I already do." Quiet her with kisses before assuring her that you'll be here when she gets back, your love no less and possibly more fiery. Undress her, and imprint into your mind the look of her, all rosy and pretty with her hair a golden halo around her head. Memorize the sensation of her, how her mouth feels around your cock and how hot and soft she is when you pump into her. Learn by heart the sound of her, how her cries rise a pitch when you lick _there_, how her moans go octaves above normal so that the neighbors hear.

Keep this all in mind, because it will be all you will have for a long time. There will be no other woman, no other comfort but the thoughts of her.

When the morning comes and it's time for you to see her off, don't worry. Know that she will come back because you are her home.

**.**

**six**

When you finally see her again, bang her like a screen door in a hurricane.

Do it eagerly, making her feel how the nights since you last touched her had kept you up in a sweaty, painful unrest because the moment you close your eyes there was only the look of her spread legs and heaving breasts. Kiss a trail down her neck, her chest, her belly until you reach that sweet spot that has her writhing avidly under you. Work your tongue as if it was battery-operated until her eyes roll to the back of her head and she lets out that ear piercing trill and her hands grip violently at your hair. Puncture the pleasure with declaration of how much you missed her, and when you tell her this, watch that sentimental look take over the cloud of lust in her eyes until she whispers your name in that choked up tone because damn if she didn't miss you too. When she begins to reach for you, remind her there is time for hugs and soothing later. Back to work between her legs for you. Graze your teeth along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs before lapping at her core the way she likes it. Drive her back up to the point of insanity, as the thoughts of her had driven _you_ mad the last year. When she comes, ask her in that smug voice of yours if she likes this better than her fingers or that sex toy you sent her eight months ago for the anniversary you two didn't get to spend together. Laugh as she drags you up to her level, telling you to shut up and remind her what she's been dreaming about all these months.

Press into her until you feel like one entity, until you can't tell where you begin and where she ends. Your forehead against her shoulder and her nails pressing half-moon bruises against your shoulder, ease into her slowly, as if to torture the pair of you just a little bit longer. Its okay. She's back in your arms now, and you have all the time in the world. Begin to pick up the pace because you can only wait so long.

**.**

**sept**

Make love to her after an argument.

Never let her walk away from you with black in her vision and heartbreak poisoning her. Grab her hand, pull her back to you and kiss that growling mouth until she pulls away and slaps you. Wait for it, because she might be angry but the sight of you in nothing but unhooked pants has sent her libido into overdrive. When she grabs you by the hair and smashes her blood-red lips against yours, respond with equal fervor. Grab that flimsy dress of white satin and rip it down the seam so she stands flush against you in barely there panties that are even easier to tear away and tall, strappy red heels that scream a jarring _FUCK ME IN THESE_. Without breaking the kiss, you keep pushing at each other until her naked back hits the cool marble kitchen counter and she is breathless from the sensation of hot and cold. Without preamble, push your fingers into her womanhood, swallowing her delighted, corybantic cries with sloppy kisses. Place a hand on her stomach to keep her down as the other works in an out of her. Watch her deceptively frail arms thrash about, then sweep across the counter to push kitchen utensils out of the way and have them clang to the floor (not that you can hear through her screams). See her reach for the wrist of your busy hand, drawing your soaked fingers out of her. Never take your eyes off hers as she places those same fingers in her mouth, licking and sucking at her own essence until you are sure you've lost your mind. Retract you hand, lean down for a forceful kiss. Taste her in that avid lip lock, allowing yourself to go delirious with want. You feel her bite down on your tongue and the pain and copper taste come and in hand in a matter of seconds. "Fuck," you hiss at her as she smirks at you before pulling you by the loop of your jeans. Bold now, she places the tip of you where she wants you, and it's easy to plunge in and take that dive to oblivion. Ram into her because you're more than a little pissed, and there was time for finesse and sensitivity later. You want her. She drives you nuts, but damn if you don't want to possess every bit of her.

"I hate you," she says, but there is a smile of a woman in love on her bee-stung lips.

"No you don't," you shoot back with a smug grin, losing yourself in the sensory overload that was her.

Much later, the two of you are boneless on your back on that kitchen counter surrounded by a mess of irreparable clothes and kitchen material in various form of ruin.

After an argument and the rowdy sex that follows, it is important to make up. Prove to her you will never hate her. Tell her you didn't mean any of it, and that you want her. Never make her feel like she's a mistake.

**.**

**huit**

Make love to your new wife. It had been a whole day of a troublesome wedding and six months of ever more troublesome planning. There were days of color schemes, cake selections, venue choices and band auditions. Crazy relatives and rowdy friends had to be entertained. At the end of the day as you settled into the honeymoon suite, your body and mind is tired, but you think all of that was worth seeing the smile so radiant on her face when she walked down the aisle. You even cried when the image of her in ivory slapped you in the face with a turbulent emotion, and Gray would promised he'd never let you live it down.

Make love to her slowly. You have all the time in the world now, because she is yours forever. You know that she always had been, despite everything, and you didn't need a piece of paper and a priest to tell you that.

With hands that are shaking and reverent, divest her of her wedding dress and brush your lips on every patch of skin you reveal. When she is in her underwear –snow white lingerie that was supposed to be pure, but how pure could see through lace be? – allow her to press your back down on the mattress, eager hands working off your stiff suit, and you feel relief when you are finally free of the pants that grew tight around your crotch. Once your boxers are off, let her go down on you with all her impatience until she's satisfied you're hard enough, as if it was any question. Watch her push aside her barely there panties and roll her hips onto you, taking you in deeper with each fall. The impetus is delicious, so you grab onto her and turn her over until it is her on her back. Your solid form against her pliant one, set a gratifying motion that extracts breathy sighs and quiet moans from her lips. Be soft, be loving. Make her forget every bad thing she's been through because if she has you for her husband, she'll never want for anything.


End file.
